The Wrong Side of Right
by Axellia
Summary: Not everyone in this world is good. Sometimes, the bad guys are the ones pretending to be the good guys. And sometimes, the bad guys are the ones you fall for. D/OC. Rated for violence and language.
1. Chiefs, Cocaine, and Kipper

_Righto readers, it's another fic from Axellia – and there's nothing supernatural about this one! Just, please don't ask where the idea came from! _

_Whilst I have no intention of using episodes like I normally do, you may find references to anything up to well, whatever has just aired on US TV, although I will try to limit to season 3 so as not to give away any spoilers, however, I will let you know at the beginning of each chapter for any references._

_I'm pleased to announce this does have a shelf life! Trust me, it's a good thing! And I was going to wait until I had finished it before posting, but I want to test the waters so as not to waste my time._

_Well, that leaves me with one last thing to say… Harriet Nash – she's mine. Anything else, not so much. However, unless Mr. __Bruckheimer__ is reading this and is willing to hand it over, I can pretend CSI:NY is mine (:D)

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**The Wrong Side of Right**

_Evil is just a point of view,_

Anne Rice

**Chapter One: Chiefs, Cocaine and Kippers.**

Harriet ran a brush through her long blonde hair one last time and took a step back from the mirror. Comfortable boots, check. Smart shirt – low cut, but decent enough for work, check. Light, suit jacket, check. Gun, check. Badge… Harry frowned. That one needed to be collected still.

She rolled her green eyes at her reflection and grabbed her purse off one of the many piles of boxes, checked her dog had enough water, and headed out.

She arrived at the precinct twelve minutes late, walking in to discover the Captain was giving the weekly brief to his uniforms and homicide detectives. She glanced in – everyone was staring at the Captain, although some had a glazed look in their eyes. Taking a breath, she slipped in.

In hindsight, she would probably have been better waiting. Everyone turned to look at her – even the Captain stopped and glared at the person who had disrupted his sermon.

"Can I help you?" he asked her icily.

Harry smiled. "Harriet Nash. I've just transferred in from Madison Narcotics."

Captain Gerrard narrowed his eyes. "Roll call is at seven am on the dot. I won't stand for tardiness or absence on my watch."

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized, sliding into the only free school-like desk in the room. She quickly pulled out her new notebook and pen, ignoring the looks she was getting from the men and women around her, and waited patiently for the Captain to continue.

He gave her one last glare and continued with his weekly sermon.

A good fifteen minutes later, Harry was the only one who seemed to be paying any attention – the fact evident on most people's faces that the weekly speech from Gerrard was actually the same speech every week.

Slowly they filed out of the room. Or at least Harry tried to when she heard her name barked at her.

"Nash!"

Harry stopped and turned. "Yes sir?"

"I want you to meet your new partner,' Gerrard barked as Harry joined his side.

Harry looked up at the tall detective with black hair and bright blue eyes. She turned to Gerrard, her lips pursed. "I don't do partners. I work solo. I thought that had been sent through."

"Not on this watch, you don't," Gerrard informed her. "Nash, Flack. Flack, Nash." Gerrard looked down at the woman next to him. "I've heard many different things about you, Nash. I hope half of what I hear isn't true." He left, leaving Harry alone with Flack.

Harry glanced back up at his blue eyes which were staring at her like he was trying to get a read on her, and sighed. "Harriet," she said, holding out a hand.

Flack took it and shook it. "Don."

Harriet continued to stare up. He wasn't giving much away with his facial expression. 'So where can a girl get a bowl of water?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Flack blinked. "Excuse me?"

Harry rolled her eyes. "For," she stopped. "Follow me," she told him instead. She turned and walked out of the room, not caring if Flack was following her.

He was. He followed her for twelve minutes back to her apartment, where he stood uncertainly in the threshold. "Normally, I don't go back to a woman's apartment until after the third date."

"Cute," Harry responded, unlocking the door. "But I'm not going to sleep with you." She opened the door and walked in to be greeted by an enormous Alsatian. "This is Kipper. We work together. If you don't like it, I suggest you ask Gerrard for a new partner," she told him simply.

Flack looked down at the Alsatian. He was enormous. And he was also wearing a MPD jacket. "They let you have dogs for partners in Wisconsin?"

"They let me," Harry said, shrugging her shoulders.

Flack stared straight back into Harry's green eyes – it was like she was challenging him to object. He could feel his bottom jaw dropping into a smirk. "Kipper, eh?" He leant over and ruffled the dog's fur. "Fine with me. But he sits in the back."

"Fine," Harry complied, attaching a leash. "I drive."

"Hardly," Flack scoffed, following her out of her apartment and back to the precinct. 'You cleared _Kipper_ with the chief?"

"Part of the clause on my transfer," Harry shrugged.

"And why did you transfer?" Flack asked. "Wisconsin not got a decent homicide department?"

"The chief didn't want people to know he was sleeping with me behind his wife's back," Harry told him as Flack's phone rang.

Flack shook his head as he answered the phone. Seconds later he turned to Harry. "We've got a 419 in Harlem." He led her to the patrol car. "And I'm driving, he added.

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Harry sat back in the passenger seat, staring at her reflection in the side mirror. She actually hadn't lied when she told her reason for leaving Madison. _Well_, she thought with a wry smile, _she hadn't completely lied_. There was a little more to it than that. But he was the reason why she had a transfer, rather than an arrest. And in her experience, she had found that starting rumours herself meant they were less likely to come back and bite her in the ass.

"So what's the deal?" she asked, referring to the scene they were heading to.

Flack glanced over as he stopped at some traffic lights. "Sounds like a drug deal gone wrong. I guess that's why they sent us. Let you ease into homicide easily."

"Yeah," Harry agreed turning to watch the scenery go by rather than have Flack see her roll her eyes. _Seriously, did he really not think that narcotics and homicide were a linked a little closer than that?_

They arrived at the scene. Flack had assumed right – it was drugs related. According to the uniforms who had secured the scene, the victim was a known drug dealer – one at the bottom end of the food chain.

Whilst awaiting the CSIs, Harry, went for a preliminary sweep of the crime scene with Kipper, as Flack began taking statements from a handful of witness who probably hadn't been at the scene until the cops turned up.

Which was about when Kipped lay down. Harriet had had a large part in training Kipper. She'd found him in a dumpster when he was a puppy and at the time had been dating someone from customs. Andrew, the custom's officer, had started by playing a game – sniffing out his food from three different bags. Three years later, and Harriet wouldn't dream of ever turning up to work without him. He was her greatest asset.

Harry crouched down to see what he had found. Underneath a nearby car were eight little baggies of white powder. Checking that both the uniforms and Flack were occupied, which they were, she picked one of them up and teased it open. She licked her finger and dipped it in her bag, made sure her finger was well coated, and rubbed it over her teeth. _Cocaine._

With a pleased smile, she sealed the bag up, grabbed three of the closest and stuffed them in her pocket. She was reaching for a fourth when Flack walked over accompanied by another carrying a case.

"What have you got?" Flack asked her.

"I'm not sure," Harry lied. "Kipper found something. I was trying to see what it was."

Flack and the man carrying the cases crouched down and peered under the old Volvo. "Looks like drugs to me," said Flack.

"I'm thinking cocaine," Harry agreed.

The man who had looked under the car looked at her over the top of his glasses. "You're Flack's new partner."

"For now," Harry agreed.

The man with the glasses glanced at Flack who was rolling his eyes. "Danny Messer," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Harriet Nash."

"I'll get that," Danny told her, grabbing his camera out of the bag and taking a few pictures before grabbing the baggie. Carefully, he emptied a little into a small try and added a few drops of liquid.

Harry watched – he was checking which drug it was. She knew that. She'd actually performed the test a few times herself. Only her kits involved placing a little of the drug into a special baggie and breaking a vial. But effectively, it was the same test. And the result confirmed what she already knew. Cocaine.

"Good guess," said Danny, indicating to the purple solution. "It is cocaine." He looked down at Kipper who was looking up at him. "Why is there a dog here?"

"_He_ is my partner," said Harry.

Danny burst out laughing. "Damn, Flack. You never told me you were competing with a _dog_."

"Shut it, Messer," Flack growled.

Harry joined in the laughing as Flack stalked away.

"He's not normally this bad," Danny apologized for his friend.

Harry smirked. "That's because I'm giving him a hard time before he gives me one. Lord knows I've hazed enough newbies." She watched Flack return to talking statements. "What's he like?"

Danny shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose. "He's a good cop. Very loyal. Once he's got your back, he's got it for life."

Harry nodded. _Interesting._ "And what about you?" she asked slyly.

"You'll just have to find out." Danny told her with a smirk.

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_I'm hoping to try something different here. After all, not all cops are good. _

_And Harriet is evil (:P)_


	2. Baggies, Benjamin's and Blackmail

**The Wrong Side of Right**

_The sun also shines on the wicked,_

Seneca

**Chapter Two: Baggies, Benjamin's and Blackmail**

Harry walked into the crime lab, head held high, disguising the fact she was incredibly pissed with having a partner. A human one, at any rate. The current human one was in the morgue with the cute CSI trying to get an ID, and she had been _sent_ to see if anything had been found on the drugs.

"Excuse me?"

Harry turned at the sound of a non-native New Yorker call her name, and looked down at the sandy haired woman in front of her. "Yes?"

The woman looked a little startled at the icy tone of Harry and narrowed her eyes. "Dogs aren't allowed in the lab," she snapped.

Harry rolled her eyes. "Kipper, door." The Alsatian looked up at her before padding softly to the reception area and sitting down by one of the large pot plants. "Better?" she asked the woman in the same icy tone.

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

Harry looked her up and down, spotting the name 'Monroe' embroidered onto her lab coat. "Where is the trace lab?" she asked, instead.

"You need a pass to be here," Monroe sniped.

Harry rolled her eyes. "This good enough?" she asked, producing her recently acquired New York badge.

Monroe glared at her and pointed down the corridor at a large, glass walled room. Another lab tech inside.

Without thanking her, Harry turned on her heel, her long hair only just missing the tech's face as it whipped out behind her. She strode into the lab. "Do we have anything on the drugs?"

The lab tech blinked at her.

Harriet sighed. "The drugs found at the crime scene," she said, talking really slow as if he was stupid. "Have you run an an-al-y-sis on it yet?"

"Yes," the tech stammered nervously, sending furtive glances as her as he scurried nervously around the lab in an attempt to find the print out of results.

Harriet exhaled deeply though her nose, highlighting her impatience at the tech. "Today would be a really nice day to find a bad guy and arrest him," she muttered loud enough for him to hear.

"Here," he said, handing over a folder.

Harriet snatched it out of his hands and marched out of the lab, to the desk opposite Flack that she had been assigned. And dug her nose in.

"So you're the newbie?"

Harry looked up over the top of the folder and scowled darkly at the detective staring down at her.

"You're Flack's new partner?"

"No, Kipper is the partner. Flack is tagging along," she stated, returning her attention to the folder.

The detective laughed. "Curtis."

Harriet looked over the top of her folder again. "Nash."

"Well, Nash, would you and Kipper like to join us for drinks, being as our shift is over?"

Harry smiled. "I'm sorry, but I really need to get home and unpack."

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Of course, that was a lie. According to the report the lab tech had put together, the cocaine had the same chemical breakdown as a couple of baggies caught on one Darryl James. James, was now out on bail for intent to supply and according to his file, was likely to be found in the Bronx.

After questioning a junkie, who she had allowed to go without arresting him on the condition she give up James' location, she found herself inside a derelict apartment complex.

"You ready?" she asked Kipper. She drew her gun and burst through the doors of the abandoned apartment. It was dark, dingy, and smelt of body odor, general mustiness, and a lingering smell of chemicals. "NYPD!" she bellowed.

At the far end of the room, two men started to scramble to their feet. They were soon stopped at the sight of Kipper leaping towards them, followed closely by Harry, gun out in front of her.

"On your knees!" she barked. "Come on! Put your hands behind your head!" she ordered, shining her torch in their faces. The men settled to their knees, hands behind their heads as she ordered.

As Kipper growled menacingly at them, and with her gun remaining firmly aimed at the larger of the two's head, Harry glanced down at the brick of cocaine which was slowly being weighed out into smaller baggies. There was a couple of hundred thousand dollars of the white powder in the room. "Well, Christmas has come early. It's snowing already," she exclaimed, licking her finger, dipping it in the powder and trying it. "This is good stuff," she grinned.

"Pig whore!" The larger of the two muttered – James. She recognized him from the mug shot on file.

Harry was digging her gun in the side of his head in an instant. "What did you just call me?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he stammered out at her.

"And you can shut the fuck up too," she cried at the other man who was whimpering beside his friend. "You two squatting?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" the bigger demanded.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "Why are criminals so damn stupid?" she exclaimed. 'You own this flat?"

"No."

"No, what?" she asked, poking the gun back in his temple.

"No, ma'am."

"What about you?" she asked the other one, pointing the gun at him. "You letting, or subletting?"

"No. No, ma'am," he added quickly.

"What? No mortgage?"

"No, ma'am," he repeated.

Harry laughed. "Man, you guys got fucked up tonight. I'd hate to be you in the morning. Don't look at me!" she snapped as she began filling a hold all with the bags of cocaine, her gun still trained calmly on the larger of the two men. "Okay, this is how it works. You never saw me, and I never saw you. And hey, the world will just keep on turning."

The two men actually looked horrified. "You ain't taking us in?" the larger demanded.

Harriet laughed. "No."

"You've got to,' the smaller all but pleaded, looking truly scared.

Harriet shrugged, hoisting the bag over her shoulder. "Does this face look the slightest bit concerned? There'll be two less scumbags on the streets. It's win-win in my books."

"If you don't, we'll get shot for losing that shit."

Harriet rolled her eyes. "You that worried? Leave town," she suggested. "Kipper."

Kipper let out one last warning bark as he followed Harriet out of the room.

"I am going to find that bitch and rat her out to the feds, and to Lil D. Whore will be sorry she ever crossed us."

Harriet stopped and turned on her heel walking straight back in. "Let's get one thing straight," she told the James, who had made the comment, as she dumped the bag on the floor. "I'm in charge here." And without hesitating, she pulled the trigger without even blinking.

"Oh Jesus!" the other man began sobbing. "Oh Jesus."

Harriet roller her eyes. "Oh, stop crying," she told him, disgusted at his tears. "He your brother?"

The man shook his head. "I just met him, he gave me a job."

"I hope you never signed a contract," she told him. She took a breath, cocking her head. "You ever done time?"

"No."

Harriet eyed him.

"No, ma'am. I've never done time."

Harriet sat down at the table and pulled a baggie over that she had missed, emptying it out on the table and lining it up. "You got a bill?"

The man pointed to the couch behind her. "Behind that."

Harriet rose to her feet and walked to the couch, peering behind it. "Well take a look at all the Benjamin's!" she exclaimed seeing another hold-all full of hundred dollar bills. "They really are trusting with you low level crooks these days, aren't they?" She hauled the bag out and dumped it next to the bag with the drugs, and pulled out one of the hundred dollar bills. She was rolling it up as she sank bag into the chair, and then sampled the cocaine. "Shit, this really is good stuff!" she exclaimed, settling back and enjoying the buzz she was experiencing. "You want some?" she asked the other man.

"No, ma'am."

Harriet gently wiped her nose. "Okay, this is how it's going to work. Your buddy here was sampling the goods. He got fucking crazy, and he came at you with a knife." Harry got to her feet and walked over to the male, crouching down in front of him, careful not to step in the blood. "Now tell me what happened?" she asked him, fluttering her eyelashes, as she ran a gloved finger provocatively down his face.

"My buddy, he got fucking crazy," the man repeated, sobbing. "Oh, God.! And he came after me with a knife."

Harry's fingers traced his lips briefly as she got to her feet. "And just to make one thing clear. I will hunt your family down and I will gut your mother if you ever utter a word of this to anyone. You understand me?"

The man nodded. "Yes. Ma'am."

"Good," Harriet smiled as she handed the gun over to him. The gun was untraceable. She'd made sure of that before she'd entered the building. She wasn't stupid enough to use her own gun. And she'd 'acquired' a few of them in Madison. "Now, I'm leaving, with the drugs and the money. I want you to wait twenty minutes, and then you call it in."

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Harriet stepped out of the shower and picked up the phone that was blaring at her on the side. She hung up and dumped it back on the side. It was a call out to a 419 in the Bronx. Quickly, she got dressed, kicking the two bags under the bed.

A short while later, she was pretending to listen to the 'first responders', as the uniform filled her in on what happened. Flack and Danny were already there, as well as the lab tech called Monroe.

"You took your time," Flack muttered as she walked over.

Harry shrugged. "I got lost."

"They're really throwing you in the deep end, aren't they?" said Danny as he looked up from the table he was processing.

Harriet watched him, unworried. She'd made sure there was no evidence of herself before she left. "Fine with me. Where's the suspect?"

Flack nodded over to the corner where Monroe was processing him for gunshot residue. He was muttering something, but clamped his mouth firmly closed as soon as he laid eyes on Harry.

Monroe looked over, eyeing her suspiciously, but looked away when she caught Harry glaring at her.

"I'm going to canvass the area for witnesses," Harriet announced. _Just to make sure_.

"Hey, Harry," Danny called, moving over to her. "You wanna get some drinks when we're done here?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the glare Flack was sending them. "Sure," she grinned.


End file.
